


Say My Name

by kittymaine



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Explicit Language, M/M, One Night Stands, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:53:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22794301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittymaine/pseuds/kittymaine
Summary: Jaskier tumbles any willing man into bed that looks like Geralt and might let him get the taciturn witcher out of his system. Maybe, if he can satisfy himself with other men, he can forget about Geralt and the things he said to him at the top of that stupid mountain. That's what Jaskier hopes, so why does it seem like his obsession with Geralt is just getting worse?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 90





	Say My Name

**Author's Note:**

> This is absolute filth. I apologize.

Jaskier felt attracted to Geralt from the moment he first saw him in the corner of a backwater inn just a year or so after he left university. Jaskier had a special talent for getting involved with people who were terminally unavailable and Geralt seemed to be no exception. A big brooding witcher, dangerous and hated by everyone, but who turned out to be just as human and relatable as anyone else. In fact, he might have been more kind than most big brutish men that Jaskier found himself trailing after in the past.

He didn’t have any delusions about why he was following Geralt around. The practical reason, of course, was that the events of Geralt’s hunts made great inspiration for new ballads of bravery and action that quickly made him one of the most popular touring bards around. The more instinctual reason was because he was secretly hoping that Geralt would one day get tired of his incessant babbling and toss him down on a grassy hillside and make a proper mess out of him. As the years went on and they instead became incrementally closer friends, Jaskier came to terms with the idea that this would probably never happen. It didn’t help that the only times Jaskier ever saw Geralt show the slightest bit of interest in anyone, they were traditionally sexy and beautiful women.

So, Geralt was straight. It certainly wasn’t unusual. Jaskier was even mostly straight, sort of. Kind of. He was pretty straight most of the time. One had to make an effort when you spent most of your time out in the country and looked as incredibly flamboyant as he did. Besides, he had more in common with beautiful married noble women than he did with most country village boys. It made it easier to make excellent pillow talk, even if it made their time in bed a little less interesting.

He told himself he was over it, over Geralt. After Yennefer came into the picture, he pushed himself to get over it. They were friends, good friends even! Great friends! Geralt was certainly one of Jaskier’s oldest and most constant friends throughout his life. Geralt wasn’t attracted to him and that was okay. He was okay with the corner of his heart he believed he owned. He could find new love. He always did.

So, he did his best to fuck every big muscle man he could manage to turn his way. Even for him, it was a little crass how obvious it was. But, he felt that if he could just scratch whatever itch he had for Geralt, he could properly get him out of his system and maybe for once date someone who was actually a good match for him. Someone he could build a future with, such as someone who wasn’t married like 98% of his recent lays.

He sucked cock and got fucked by said cock and even fucked a few of these men, which was especially enjoyable. All of it was enjoyable and after he felt well and truly fucked out, he was able to convince himself that he had done it, he had fucked Geralt out of his system. They could just be great friends now, nothing more.

Then, the fucking dragon quest happened. While novel and terrifying, Jaskier hadn’t thought it would be especially noticeable until they reached the end. Until Geralt bit his fucking head off over Yennefer, of all people. Over nothing. Because he was there and he was convenient and he was unlikely to fight back. He was a convenient punching bag and Geralt had leaped at him like a wolf dives after a lamed rabbit. It turned something rancid in Jaskier’s stomach that was hard to get out of his system.

Suddenly, Jaskier didn’t just have no chance with Geralt in a romantic sense, he also had no desire to be friends with him. Geralt, his best friend, was now just a bitter taste on his tongue.

So, why did he keep fucking men that looked like him?

“Are you okay, love?” the man currently beneath him asked, rubbing a calloused hand up and down his side.

Jaskier blinked that terrible train of thought away and looked down. He was currently straddling an extremely muscular man with wiry black body hair and thick black hair slicked back away from his face. The man had a beard, but obviously tried to keep it cut, it just grew back extremely fast, was Jaskier’s guess. He had met him in town, in the market selling firewood to the nearby butcher shop. His forearms were the kind of thing that Jaskier could write ten page odes about, so of course he pursued.

“Yes,” Jaskier purred, trying to get his head back in the game, “Just a bit lost in thought.” Jaskier leaned down and ran his hands appreciatively over the man’s chest, threading his fingers through the thick hair there.

“Something bothering you?” the man asked, leaning up to circle his huge tree trunk thick arms around Jaskier’s back and kiss at his neck. The tickle of his beard made Jaskier shiver.

“Mmm,” Jaskier prevaricated, “Nothing important,” he settled on.

The man chuckled deep in his chest. “Maybe I can distract you, then,” he teased while also literally teasing Jaskier’s cock through the front of his unlaced pants.

Jaskier groaned and arched into the touch. While the admittedly pretty talented man divested Jaskier of his pants and toppled him back onto the bed, Jaskier tried to remember his name. Was it Sven? Something starting with an S he thought. Then, felt disappointed in himself for caring so little for this beautiful man who was currently yanking his own pants down to reveal a mouthwatering cock. If he could write odes to Sven (or something’s) forearms, his cock alone deserved a seventeen verse love ballad, praise the gods.

Sven or maybe Skyor noticed Jaskier staring and gave him a hungry grin. “Like what you see, little bard?” he asked, taking himself in hand.

“Like is a bit of an understatement,” Jaskier huffed a laugh and held out his arms to encourage his lover to come to him and come he did.

Maybe his name didn’t start with S, maybe his name was Thor. Thor would be such a fitting name, though his hair was dark, so maybe he was some other muscle god. Was there any dark haired muscle gods that he was supposed to know of. The man whose name was possibly Thor was roughly jerking Jaskier’s cock, so it was very hard for him to think of any.

“I want to split you open on my cock,” the man growled into Jaskier’s ear, sending another shiver of pleasure down his spine.

“I think I can be convinced,” Jaskier breathed, drawing another deep chuckle from the man.

“You’re funny,” the man smiled before giving Jaskier a playful bite.

Jaskier frowned. Something about the ‘you’re funny’ line struck him sideways and he didn’t like it.  _ ‘It doesn’t sound like something Geralt would say,’ _ a little voice in his head whispered, but he quickly smashed that voice down. Not now, about to get fucked, maybe he could brood over this problem some other time.

The man (maybe Thor maybe Sven) took no notice of Jaskier’s adverse reaction. He kept kissing down Jaskier’s neck while his other hand fumbled for a small jar of grease off the side of the bed. Things started to advance quickly from there. There were no more quippy flirtations, just grunts and moans as they writhed against each other. Jaskier’s love pressed thick rough fingers inside of him and deftly opened him up, brushing thick digits against his prostate glancingly, sending shocks of pleasure up his spine. Jaskier was leaking all over both of their stomachs by the time he was stretched to the man’s satisfaction.

“Ride me?” the man rumbled and Jaskier enthusiastically nodded.

With little to no effort, the man pulled Jaskier up with a hand around his waist. Jaskier’s dick jumped at being lifted so easily and he was almost trembling with how much he wanted to fuck himself on Sven or something’s beautiful cock by the time he was kneeling up over him.

He held that beautiful cock in his hand and enjoyed how thick and wet it already was, but smeared some precome down over the shaft just to make sure it was wet enough. He held it steady as he slowly crouched down and let it breach him. If he hadn’t been seeking out fucks just like this one so much recently, it would have been a real hardship trying to fit this monster cock inside him, but fortunately he had been an especially thirsty slut lately and instead enjoyed the stretch and the burn and that intense feeling of fullness as he took his seat on Sven or something’s pelvis.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” possibly Thor growled and Jaskier was hit again by that feeling of wrongness, but this time in the wrong direction. The man’s deep voice saying something that Jaskier often fantasized of hearing from Geralt’s mouth was a little to on the nose. It made something painful throb in his chest and crawled up the back of his throat.

Jaskier leaned forward and pressed his mouth to his lover’s in an effort to stop him from saying anything else upsetting.

Once Sven (or Thor) was hitching their hips up in twitching thrusts, Jaskier took some pity on him and sat back so that he could start slowly grinding on him. God, that felt so good. The man’s cock was just the right size and it felt like he was hitting every part of himself that he wanted hit inside. Before long, he was bouncing up and down on that beautiful cock while palming his own dick.

“Fuck,” the man bit out and grabbed Jaskier’s hips hard, using his inordinate strength to pick Jaskier up and slam him down on his dick, shocking pleased gasps and yells from him.

“Yes yes yes yes!” Jaskier chanted, his own orgasm approaching at top speed, every part of his body singing

“Come for me, little bard,” the man beneath him and it was like he pulled a line tied directly to the end of his cock.

He came while crying out, his orgasm whiting out his vision and sparking up and down his spine and thighs, his stomach twitching and heaving as he lost himself.

When he came back to himself, it took a while for him to realize that the man beneath him was frozen with his hands on his hips. His cock was still hard in his ass, but it was quickly getting softer. Jaskier wiggled a little to see if he could feel the added wetness of come inside, but didn’t think he did.

He looked down at his lover and then froze when he saw the expression on his face.

“Who’s Geralt?” he asked, sounding very offended.

Jaskier opened his mouth to respond and then quickly shut it.

“Do you even know my name?” the man asked angrily.

Jaskier frowned down at the man. “Do you know mine?” he snapped.

He was then unceremoniously dumped onto the bed and the man quickly stood up and started looking for his pants.

“Seriously?” Jaskier yelped as he hit the bed.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” the man grumbled as he yanked his pants on and stormed out the door to Jaskier’s room at the local inn.

Jaskier laid in a tumble in the middle of his bed in a nest of twisted blankets and stared angrily at the ceiling listening to the man whose name probably wasn’t Sven or Thor stomp down the hall and then down the stairs and presumably out the back door of the inn.

It had been months since Geralt bit his head off on the top of that stupid mountain and he was still fucking men that looked like him and to make matters worse he had shouted his name when he came.

Jaskier was totally and completely fucked.


End file.
